


Sharon Xavier, an alternate interpretation

by ourgirlfriday



Category: Welcome to Night Vale, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Character Interpretation, F/M, Fluff and Crack, Pre-Series, if this thing continues Charles and Erik wil join the fun, night vale-esque blood and gore, no night vale characters, the author is not sure what she is doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-20 09:53:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/885865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ourgirlfriday/pseuds/ourgirlfriday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sharon is away from Night Vale for the first time when she meets Brian Xavier, and nothing will be the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sharon Xavier, an alternate interpretation

**Author's Note:**

> I had an idea, and I needed to write the idea. So here is the idea in all its ideaish glory. This isn't about Welcome to Night Vale per se, except that Sharon is from there. If you haven't listened to Welcome to Night Vale, you should! It is great. For the purposes of this story, all I think you need to know is that it is a weird, creepy town full of weird, creepy things. I might continue? I don't know. Anything could happen! We live in crazy times. If I do, Erik and Charles will feature. 
> 
> Unbetad, so I apologize for any mistakes.

Sharon woke in a strange place with no memory as to how she got there. That, in itself, was not unusual, as most vague, yet menacing government agencies had mandated that unconscious, spontaneous, cross-dimensional transport was now the least-illegal method of travel, and, furthermore, any person, person-shaped entity, dragon, dragonfly, flydragon, ghost, ghostdragon, or dragonghost traveling voluntarily would face immediate banishment to the mines outside town (whichever town happens to be nearest to you at that particular time). 

So waking up, outside, in a strange land, was not in and of itself a problem. The problem was the land she woke up in was on no map she had ever seen, nor told of in any tales she had ever heard or read (although to be fair, it was difficult to comprehend what you read when you are on the run from roving librarians). No, this place, this “England” was wrong, all wrong. There were no bloodstones in sight! No hooded figures to ignore, no whispers from the trees, and all of the dogs were covered in flesh _and_ skin. As she walked the streets, her feelings of disquiet only grew. 

“I’m sorry,” said a man near her - and he was a beautiful man, with perfect, floppy hair and eyes like a calm turquoise day before a blood storm. He wore a labcoat - a scientist, clearly. “Did you say something?”

“Yes.” she answered. After all, everyone knew that "something” was the keyword to summon any nearby vague, yet menacing agents, or any local secret police. She scanned the skies hopefully, searching for any helicopters on the horizon. The man next to her laughed. Perhaps he was a bit addled.

“You’re very literal, aren’t you,” the man asked, grinning. His teeth were perfect.

“Of course,” Sharon answered quickly. After all, figurative existence had been banned some years ago, and while Sharon, being a healthy and curious young woman, had her share of experimentation with figurativity, she was not about to admit that in public, where anyone with the most rudimentary eavesdropping technology could overhear. 

The man laughed, again, and stepped nearer to her. “Has anyone ever told you you’re very beautiful?” His perfect lips quirked in a smile so splendorous that it outshone the sun. Sharon blushed, and her stomach filled with butterflies. She spared a moment to regret eating at that all-butterfly buffet near the Switz border. 

“Well,” she said, “I was chosen as Night Vale’s second most beautiful woman, after three-eyed Wilma.” Maybe, she thought, a brief tour of this “England” might not be so bad after all. The man stepped closer still, and Sharon thought she might explode in a puff of glitter. How embarrassing would that be? She hadn't done that since middle school. 

“Night Vale? I’m not familiar with it. Are you visiting?” Sharon nodded in answer to the perfect man’s question. His voice was like velvet wrapped in silk wrapped in the warm carcass of a sacrifical goat. “If you’re interested,” he continued, perfectly, “I’d be honored to show you around.” He held out his hand, and, after a moment, Sharon took it. Not literally, of course. She had just met the man, it was far too soon to exchange limbs. He smiled again, and started down a cobblestone street, pointing out the strangest facts about the buildings, and the weather, and about the trees which apparently never screamed at all.

And that was how Sharon met Brian Xavier.


End file.
